Castle of Sand
by SkyFireAngel
Summary: 16 students are sent a mysterious letter welcoming them to the prestigious Ile des Reves World Academy. When they each take a flight to the Caribbean for a summer vacation, however, to "get to know each other", they soon find that their hopes for successful futures are crumbling around them like a castle of sand - and escape is certain for no one. SYOC Closed.
1. Prologue

**Hey! I am SkyFireAngel, here with the new SYOC _Castle of Sand._ I drew inspiration from _C'est La Mort_ by Ptroxsora, _O Fortuna Velut Luna_ by Hoprocker, and _The Blade of Tribulation_ by gingericus19, all of which are incredible and highly recommended by me. This SYOC is OPEN with an August 7th deadline. The official character form can be found near the top of my profile; currently, I'm a little low on boys.**

**By the way, I guess this has SDR2 spoilers. So beware of that.**

**Disclaimer: I have no entitlement to Dangan Ronpa in any way, shape or form. Woe is me.**

**Credits to the wonderful pinkpencil3498 for being my beta and putting up with me, which is always a struggle.**

* * *

"Imbecile."

The voice that spoke out, flat with contempt, reverberated through the room. The subject of this verbal abuse, illuminated by harsh spotlight, fell to his knees in fear as he wrung his hands, a clear nervous habit.

"I had had complete certainty in the ability of the 'Despair Twins' to rid the world of foolish hope and bring it to its knees-" he began nervously.

"Just as you have been now?" the first speaker interrupted; her cruel, high laugh soon filled the room, and the hall filled with mocking laughter as the other members joined in.

"The Despair Twins indeed had some brilliance with our emblem design," the director conceded once the laughter had died. As a second light focused on her, a flag with a mechanical, half-white half-black bear rolled down. "Nonetheless, I promoted _you_ as the Super World Level Despair Japan leader as opposed to Junko Enoshima and her guard dog for a reason. Perhaps I was too rash in my decision-?"

"No!" the man interjected hastily, sweat trickling down his haggard face.

"-or perhaps this could work out more smoothly after all?" the director continued as if she hadn't been interrupted. "The Hope's Peak Academy mission's execution was highly flawed; nevertheless, the concept itself still shows some signs of brilliance. We have already seen some positive fallout from the release of Hope's Peak footage: tensions have increased significantly between neighboring countries, as each one has become progressively paranoid and suspicious of each other. International traveling in particular has undergone heavy restriction: nonetheless, what this paranoia needs is a spark for it to flare into all-out despair and **war**.

"Quit groveling," she snapped at the SWL Despair Japan leader, who instantly stopped whimpering and wringing his hands. He focused on his superior, his face grim. "Go back to Japan," the director commanded him. "The Future Foundation is already trying to rehabilitate the former members of SHSL Despair, but you will be serving to reduce their efforts to naught. Furthermore, with your technological prowess, see what you can do for some "behind-the-scenes" work; after all, I'm sure the students and the Future Foundation would _love_ to have yet more despair-inducing experiences with the late Enoshima, even if she were slightly altered to fit our situation. You are dismissed," she concluded, and the man nodded in understanding before leaving the room.

"Next," the director continued after the Despair Japan leader left, "what would bring more despair to the world than to see the brightest members of its generation fall?" Her arms were open to her audience as she invited them to answer her question.

"To watch it happen again as it spread across the world," a low, masculine voice responded from the back of the audience hall.

"Indeed," the director responded affirmatively. "Now, imagine the despair that would come from watching the brightest _hopes_-" (here she snarled the word) "disappear and be found again, only to be shown murdering each other in cold blood. Who would be to blame?

"Fellow Despair Leaders, corner a wild animal enough, and it will lash out. Likewise, fuel a nation's paranoia enough, and it will turn on any other nation which it believes poses a threat. Look back to history if necessary; the looming threat of Russia's mobilized forces on its Western front led Germany to declare war, and all of Europe soon fell after. Now is the time when seeds of doubt are sown; soon, we will reap our just rewards."

Silence fell as the room remained in awe.

"Meeting dismissed."

* * *

Back in her office, the director gazed at the Monokuma flag. The design truly had been brilliant, she conceded; the combination of the black, beady and automatic red still sent a chill through her.

_Enoshima's death was quite the pity,_ the woman reflected. The SHSL Despair teen could have grown up to be the agent of the world's utter destruction, but she had been too self-serving and had forgotten her mission: the world's despair first. Nonetheless, her loss was quite a pity (although not having the remarkably energetic around was a great relief for her sanity).

See, the **director** didn't let herself get caught up in the despair of knowing that the six remaining students of Hope's Peak clung assuredly to their shards of hope. She hadn't let herself give in to the intoxicating waves of despair that had come from the failure of the Hope's Peak assignment. She simply regrouped and refocused on her mission, as a wise SWL Despair leader would do. This was exactly why she was the one destined to have the best view as the world burned and Junko Enoshima would be lucky if any of her remains could join in on the fun.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud noise of a knock on her door. Already aware of who her visitors were, she said, "Come in."

Once they had seated themselves, the director first turned to one, asking, "The facilities and means are already prepared, I presume?" The tall man whom she addressed nodded with a sinister smile.

"Perfect," the director replied as she handed him a box. He opened the lid, and his smile widened as he observed its contents. A small, childlike "Upupupupu-" played before he closed the box.

"I live to serve Despair," he replied in the low voice he had used to answer the director's earlier question before striding out of the office.

"If everything goes well, your time will come soon," the director said as she turned to face her other visitor.

"I am perfectly content with waiting so long as I will be able to play a hand in the world's destruction," the fair-skinned woman replied easily, her mouth turned upwards in a demure smile.

The director's mouth slipped into a rare, good-natured grin, and she chuckled. "Good luck, cousin; I'm trusting you for this. The Hope's Peak mission was a test run; this is the real deal."

The younger woman's eyes lit up with excitement as she realized just how big a part she would play in bringing the world to despair. "You won't regret it!" she exclaimed with a large grin, holding the director's tan hands in her own.

"I had better not. Now go; I have things that even you can't yet know of," the director laughed, escorting her subordinate to the door. Afterwards, she paced back to her desk, quickly dialing one last number. Her fingers stroked the back of another Monokuma doll as she awaited a response.

"Yes? I forgot to mention one thing," she began. "Do this however you like, but see if you can give the Future Foundation the idea that maybe they should send their little rabbit mole over to investigate the Château de Sable Summer School..."

_Welcome to Despair._

* * *

**...and may the odds be ever in your favor.**


	2. I: Easy is the Descent

**Thank you to everyone who submitted a character! If your character doesn't show up here, that doesn't mean that he or she will not be in the story. I just wanted to feature a couple of characters before jumping in, and these five made the most sense to me. It's not favoritism or anything.**

**Once again, thanks to the awesome pinkpencil3498 for being my beta! Without further ado, here is the first official chapter.**

* * *

_"Easy is the descent to Hell."_

* * *

Things often turned out badly when his mother went _uninvited - without expressed permission - MOST DEFINITELY NOT WELCOME -_ into his room. It was only too clear that things were not going to go the way he had planned as he watched her turn around, an opened, half-white, half-black letter clutched in her hand.

"What is this, Alexander?"_ Scheiße, the full name, how can I get out of this-?_

"Ah, it's just a letter for me, you know, private business,_ not important to you at all_, just another day in the life-", he replied hastily.

"Getting an acceptance letter from _Île des Rêves World Academy_ is not another day in the life, Alexander Weiss!" his mother shrieked, dragging her son forward into the family room with a surprising amount of strength. Ignoring her son's protests of "Not my Capitols Jersey-_owwww_, not the ear either!", Mrs. Weiss clouted her son about the head.

"I have been _waiting, praying_ for the day when you would get an invitation to join the prestigious ranks of the former and current students of _Île des Rêves World Academy_! I taught you everything you needed to know and drove you to _every single hockey game_, no matter how big or small!"

Her voice grew softer here, but her grey eyes locked onto her son's blue ones with a piercing gaze. "All the traveling that your father and I have done to sustain your hockey career has put a burden on us, Alex. Nevertheless, both your father and I feel that your education is just as important as your hockey career, especially in the case that you become critically injured soon into your career and lose your job.

"We want you to get a world-class education so that you'll still be able to succeed even if your hockey career doesn't last long. I always dreamed that you could become a lawyer after your hockey days, or a doctor, even a politician - someone with a strong educational foundation and a life of prosperity, something we couldn't quite give you. Now **HERE** is a perfect,_ once in a lifetime opportunity_ to set yourself up on the path to success, and you _HID IT FROM US_?"

"_Kathrin? Liebe-_?" came the soft voice of Alexander's father, Maxwell Weiss, who looked sleepily into the room. He blinked once at the sight of his wife yelling into his son's face before continuing: "Why are you yelling at Alexander again?"

"He got a letter from_ Île des Rêves World Academy-_" (_is she ever going to stop saying it like that?_ Alexander wondered with some frustration) "-and he hid it from us!" Mrs. Weiss's eyes suddenly lit up with excitement, and her scowl transformed into a brilliant smile.

"Why am I scolding you when I should be celebrating the happiest day of all our lives? _Alyssia_! Come down now!" Kathrin yelled, although her voice rang with increasing anticipation. In response, a small young girl barreled down the stairs of the Weiss' small house, her blonde hair flying in front of the rest of her body.

"Come, Alyssia," Kathrin Weiss commanded, motioning to the largest chair in the living room. As the young girl sat down, the stern woman dragged her husband and son down on the other side of her and on to the chair. Giddily, she brought out the letter and began to read it out loud to the rest of her family.

_**Dear Alexander Weiss,**_

* * *

_**We, the Board of Admissions, are formally honoured to extend an invitation to you to join the esteemed ranks of our students for the upcoming school year at Île des Rêves World Academy.**_

Shiki Sakamoto's fingers gently grazed the elegant black script as she gaped openly at the letter. _Everyone_ in London knew about Île des Rêves World Academy, a boarding school of world-class rank, as its name implied, whose large campus was located on the French island of Corsica. Besides the rich cultural experience, Île des Rêves trained its students, who came in known as "Super High School Level" students for their proficiency in certain fields and careers, to follow their own castles in the air and achieve their dreams. Furthermore, graduates of Île des Rêves received the official rank of Super World Level in their specific talents.

The name Île des Rêves alone could open doors for even a prospective student. Île des Rêves alumni were among the most successful and influential members of the modern world; if Shiki were to join their ranks, her name would be held in the same standing as royalty. Portraits of each of the class presidents decorated the websites; their eyes were lit with anticipation, and their eager expressions stood as emblems of hope for a new nation. _And they wanted her to come?_

For a moment, Shiki tried to imagine herself as class valedictorian. Her eyes shut firmly as she saw herself standing behind a podium, faced with the difficult task of addressing a crowd composed of equally gifted students as she was. A blurry image of the official website floated through her mind, and Shiki caught a glimpse of her own reddish-brown eyes staring out from her pale face. Perhaps her hair would be its natural black again - then again, she did like how the current white color stood complimented her normal outfit

_Could she join the ranks and become a symbol of hope for the world?_ News of a horrible disruption of the world's order as it had been known came in snippets from different sources; no one company wanted to be the bringer of such horrifying news. Nonetheless, despite the fragmented pieces of information, Shiki had managed to piece together the fact that something terribly wrong had happened in Japan _- her home country! -_ and the world needed a new light in such darkness.

_The Board of Admissions believed in her!_ Shiki realized, and she grinned excitedly. They must have known about her - about her life, about her designs, about _the Mistake_ - and they still believed in her! They still believed that she stood out among the rest of her competitors; they were completely confident that she could be a **_Super World Level Video Game Designer!_** Surely there was nothing that could lower her spirits now-!

"Guys!" she called to her friends, who were still upstairs. "You won't believe what I just got!"

* * *

_**We are highly aware of your proficiency as a Florist; indeed, you have stood out greatly among other competitors within your career choice, such that we believe that you truly deserve the "Super High School Level" title. Furthermore, we are completely certain that you would be a perfect match to join our new class of "Super High School Level" students at Île des Rêves and eventually graduate as a Super World Level Florist.**_

"What do you think, Elspeth?" Lyra Harrington wondered as her eyes skimmed the letter. _It's pretty weird, huh,_ she thought, staring at the peculiar letter; the left side of the letter had intricate black script against a pale white background, but the right side had a much more jagged font, and the page background was completely black, with red script to compliment it.

"The French can be weird, lass," Elspeth replied easily as she braided her granddaughter's dark red hair. " I s'pose they're the school colors - white, red, black. Cors'ca sounds nice, don't it?"

Lyra gently tugged her braid out from her grandmother's hands and turned to face the older woman, her hazel eyes serious. "You really want me to go? Even though it's so far away? _Even though I'm the only-_"

"Tch; hush, lass," Elspeth scolded. Lyra stopped, and for the next couple of minutes, the only sound was the roar of waves as they crashed against the Aberdeen shore. At last, Elspeth spoke again.

"You've lived here in Scotland all your life, Lyra; it's time tah get a change. You'll make new friends, I'm sure, but you should still be able to keep in touch with your old friends. It'll be good to get some fresh air, and a new experience." Elspeth's voice lost its harsh Scottish burr as her voice fell to a whisper. "I won't mind you leaving, if that's what you're worried 'bout."

Lyra touched a fish on her charm bracelet absentmindedly, but her own faint, choked sobbing belied her nonchalant manner. Again, the waves filled in for the silence of their conversation. Lyra tasted salt in her mouth, but she wasn't sure if it came from the salty air by the oceanside or from her own tears.

"... So - then - what kinds of plants do you think I'll find in Corsica?" Lyra asked at last.

* * *

**_In order to celebrate your acceptance into Île des Rêves, we cordially invite you to spend a vacation with us in the Caribbean Isles. Here, you will also be able to meet and get to know the other students accepted into Île des Rêves for the upcoming school year._**

"Can you BELIEVE IT?" The helmeted girl said to the flight attendant, who simply nodded acquiescently. "I'm MINDBLOWN!" she continued, her hands flying from her head as they opened wildly in an "explosion" gesture. The flight attendant nodded again, this time giving her customer a polite smile as well.

"I mean, I know that I'm a really good motorcycle racer," the younger girl explained, motioning to her white and blue racing suit and similarly colored helmet, "but getting an acceptance letter from one of the top schools in the WORLD? Amazing!"

"Elma Bellomi?" the patroness inquired after checking her customer's flight information and ticket. The younger girl nodded in return, doing a happy thumbs-up dance as well.

"That's me!" Elma confirmed cheerfully, pointing her thumbs back at herself. "Hey, do you know where my specific destination is? I got invited to 'the Caribbean' for vacation, but I don't know about any specifics."

The flight attendant frowned as she scanned Elma's boarding pass. "No, actually - it doesn't say. Your flight terminal is D18, if that helps," she observed, handing it over to Elma so the younger girl could see for herself. Elma took the paper in one hand, and her other hand came to stroke her chin thoughtfully as her left foot tapped the ground in an impatient rhythm.

"Ah well!" Elma sighed eventually, shrugging her shoulders in a "what gives?" manner. "Maybe I'll get to travel all - over - the Caribbean!" she exclaimed, gesturing grandly with an open arm to the wide expanse of air in the airport. "What do you think?"

The patroness struggled for a response that wouldn't confuse or scare her customer, whose helmeted head was cocked like a puppy's own. At last, she responded, "Yes - I suppose that's possible-"

"Great!" Elma interrupted, doing another thumbs-up dance. In response, the flight attendant gave her energetic customer a weary smile.

"Have a great day!" Elma called as she walked away with her two carry-on bags, faintly humming along to the tune of "Escape".

The flight attendant would have responded, but before she could do so, her legs buckled out from under her as the syringe in her neck quickly emptied itself.

* * *

_**Our ultimate goal here at Île des Rêves is more than simply to train our students to achieve titles and ranks to distinguish themselves from their present and future competitors. Rather, we believe that any student's journey at Île des Rêves should as a whole be an experience of both learning and maturing. Our school is one that firmly believes in the concept of self-improvement, and we hope to impart humility, determination, and a certain level of ambition in our students during their time spent at Île des Rêves.**_

"Fannar Geirsson?"

Fannar looked up from the floor on which he had been pacing. _D16 ... D17 ... D19? Where is D18?_ He quickly spotted an official-looking valet beckoning him over. Adjusting the maroon tie around his neck, he walked over to the person who summoned him.

"Congratulations on your acceptance into Île des Rêves," he greeted easily, his voice lilting in a such a way that Fannar quickly realized that he was foreign.

"You have a private flight to your destination, Mr. Geirsson," the valet continued. "Shall I escort you into the private aircraft?"

"Yes; thank you," Fannar replied easily, a kind smile on his face. The valet gave an equally warm smile as he walked with his guest to the exclusive gate.

"All in-flight entertainment and refreshments will be free, seeing as you are such an honoured guest," the valet explained, his voice echoing in the small hallway leading to the aircraft.

_I suppose I deserve such extravagant treatment for my talents,_ Fannar agreed, an arrogant smirk flitting across his face. Under the weight of his carry-on, he rolled up the sleeves of his blue collared shirt, stretching out his arms afterward.

Once Fannar had settled into the large, singular chair in the center of the plane, he began to doze, even while the automated safety message played and the plane took off. _Île des Rêves will be a good opportunity for me to sharpen my persuasive skills,_ he thought sleepily_. Perhaps I'll get to explore some of France's history as well-_

"Thank you for flying with us today!" a surprisingly young voice rang through the plane, disrupting his train of thought. "To thank you for your patronage, we have supplied a movie that you hopefully should find be-very enjoyable to watch! Furthermore, if you look under your seat, you should find quite a nice surprise awaiting you!"

Confused, Fannar looked under his seat and found a covered silver platter. He brought it up to his table and lifted up the platter. _Anything but hákarl, anything but hákarl-_

"Pönnukökur?" he wondered, pleasantly surprised by the sight of thin pancakes stacked upon each other on his plate. _How did they know-?_

"We try to cater to the needs of our customers as best we can," the childish voice spoke again through the intercom, as if to answer his question. "If you are interested, please take the headphones that are being lowered from the plane to tune into the movie!"

Sure enough, a high-quality set of over-the-ear headphones fell into Fannar's lap. Curious, he put them over his head, glancing up from his meal quickly to watch what was playing. He noticed that it seemed to be an animated film and quickly lost interest. Putting aside his empty plate, he leaned back in his seat.

* * *

His slumber was disturbed by the haunting sound of a young girl's scream. Looking back to the screen in confusion, Fannar found his stare met by two wide, deep blue eyes set in an ashen face. Fannar shuddered, disturbed by the intensity and level of anguish in the gaze. The screen quickly changed to a cut of someone who most likely was the same girl running away, and Fannar turned back, lifting the headphones away from his ears. He fell back, still holding the headphones, and tried to fall back asleep.

He woke up again to the sound of the scream again playing from his lap, where his headphones had fallen. Ignoring the raw emotion that came from it, Fannar adjusted the volume as close to mute as he could get it, and sank back in his chair, slowly falling asleep. _At last, now I can get some peace-_

**Squelch**.

Fannar's eyes shot open; he glanced around nervously, shocked by the unexpected sound. He looked forward, at the screen, and immediately wished he hadn't.

The girl - the one who had had an emotional breakdown - was collapsed against a wall, her blue eyes closed in defeat, certainly dead. Blood spattered the floor and walls, and the hilt of a knife - which explained the horrible squelch - protruded from her stomach.

Fannar stumbled unevenly towards the bathroom, ignoring the lit seatbelt sign above his seat. Gasping, he held onto the sink for dear life, his stormy grey eyes wide with horror. After the initial wave of nausea had passed, he collapsed to the ground, hugging his knees, his expression frozen in shock.

He stayed that way for a long time.

* * *

_"Drop all the oxygen masks - take out the life vests in case of a water landing - just do something!"_

_"What?" the childish voice asked. "What is the meaning of this?"_

_"WE'RE GOING DOWN!"_

* * *

_**We sincerely hope that you choose to join us for the upcoming school year and for the orientational summer vacation; your acceptance into Île des Rêves is a great honor both for you and for the honor of our World Academy. Truly, you do deserve the Super High School Level title bestowed upon you.**_

_**We, the Board of Admissions, offer you our sincere welcome to Île des Rêves World Academy and wish you the best wherever you go.**_

Here, the signature blurred.


	3. II: Bonds Unbreakable

**Heyo! I'm still alive here, even though I've gotten swamped in summer work recently. Hopefully the next update will come sooner, because it will have more action. I dunno, I just find character dialogue a pain at times. Maybe it's my headache though.**

**The second half of the cast will be revealed in the next chapter.**

**Yet again, this isn't a complete eyesore because of the awesomeness incarnate - pinkpencil3498. And now, the story!**

Marisol Cabrera couldn't help but panic when she woke up.

There was a complete hole in her memory. Vaguely, she recalled details about a fancy school and a vacation in the Caribbean, but that didn't do anything to explain why she was in this situation: in an unfamiliar place, on an unfamiliar (although comfortable) bed, with absolutely no inkling of what she could do.

_Relax, Mari,_ she told herself. _Take deep breaths. You're still alive - go from there._

With a sigh, Marisol looked around the room. It at least felt a little like home; the walls were painted with soft oranges and pinks, and a beautiful painting of a sunset was framed on the wall opposite her bed. Both her carry-on and checked luggage had made it with her to wherever she was now, so there was no concern about running out of clothes or hygiene. _It's nice here, at least,_ she thought. _It could be a lot worse._

Rubbing her hands together (she grimaced; there was still clay stuck to them), Marisol decided to explore the rest of her current location. _I can't be the only one here - maybe someone else will have an idea of where to go or what to do. First, though, a shower._

Once she had finished showering, Marisol changed into a florid floor-length dress and sat on the edge of her bed, trying to figure out as much as she could. _The facilities seem to be in very good quality - it almost reminds me of a vacation house or hotel. But what do I do now? Is exploring worth the risk?_

Biting her lip nervously, Marisol walked towards her door. She hesitated as her hand fell on the doorknob - then threw all restraint to the wind and flung the door wide open, cringing as it collided with the nearby wall.

She looked up to find a wide pair of hazel eyes watching her.

_Aaah, why did I think this was a good idea?_

* * *

"Ah - no, no, no, wait!" Lyra cried as the girl across from her began to close the door hastily. _You're the first person I've seen here - please don't leave me!_

She jogged across the hall and knocked on the other girl's door, whistling as the time passed by. At last, the door opened a crack, and the other girl peeked out, her visible dark brown eye narrowed in suspicion.

"Hey!" Lyra greeted cheerfully. "What's your name?"

Silence.

Lyra frowned. "You could at least acknowledge that you heard me, you know! You're really being quite rude."

More silence.

_Ohmygosh, what if she's deaf?_ Lyra thought nervously. _Ah, I don't know sign language! What do I do-?_ Looking around frantically for some sort of way to communicate with her soon-to-be friend (assuming that all went well), Lyra spotted the Spanish flag on the other girl's door. _Oh! She's probably from Spain!_

"Aha!" Lyra muttered under her breath. "This is going to be a little rough ... ¿Hablas español?"

"...sí," her companion replied, opening the door a little more. Taking this as an invitation to come in, Lyra strode in. Ignoring the "¿Qué-?" from the room's owner, Lyra went to the dresser that she knew would be in the room, opening the first drawer to grab a complicated, somewhat tangled technological device that came with an earpiece and a microphone and begin typing on it.

"And - there!" Lyra exclaimed as she finished typing; she lunged forward, tackling the other girl on to the ground. They grappled for a few moments, and the other girl yelled frantically in Spanish before Lyra finally accomplished her goal: hooking the earpiece and mic around the other's face. "There - talk," Lyra said, pulling the other up.

"What did you do - wait, _what_ - how?" she exclaimed, her voice softening as her furrowed brow lifted in confusion. "You don't really speak Spanish, do you?"

"No," Lyra explained. "Didn't you see the notice on your door?" The other girl shook her head. "Ah," Lyra continued, "that explains it. See - it says (probably in Spanish for you) to go into the first drawer of the dresser by the bathroom door and take out the headset. If you configure it properly, then when you speak, it'll automatically come out in English! But, if someone else speaks, then it will go back to your ears in your native language. I couldn't explain it to you at the time," she finished, a sheepish half-smile on her face.

"Oh. Well, ah, nice to meet you, I guess, and thanks for configuring this thing. I'm Marisol Cabrera," the Spanish teenager said, nodding in understanding.

"Ah, that reminds me! I'm Lyra Harrington. Hey, were you by any chance accepted to Île des Rêves World Academy? I was accepted there as a Super High School Level Florist!"

Marisol's eyebrows raised at the last comment, and she replied, "Yes, I was as well. I'm an SHSL Sculptor," lifting her clay-caked hands for view. Lyra marvelled at the unusual sight, a large smile gracing her face.

"Hey," Lyra said suddenly, her hazel eyes wide as her grin, which was frighteningly large, "you know what? Let's go on a social adventure!" Before Marisol could protest, she was being dragged out by her new friend to explore their new home.

"What's with - the steel plates?" Marisol wheezed over the humdrum of their feet thumping against the floor. As they rounded a particularly sharp curve, Marisol stumbled, wincing at the aftermath; her lip had gotten caught against the braces on her bottom teeth.

"Come on, Marisol, hurry up!" Lyra said - right before she ran into another person, a tall blond male with a self-assured smirk.

"What the-" he managed to stutter before he was bowled over by the two girls. They rolled across the checkerboard-tiled ground for a moment before Marisol hastily shoved herself off, dusting off her dress as a faint blush colored her tanned cheeks. Lyra, who apparently was oblivious to the fact that she was currently sprawled over a guy she didn't know, took a significantly longer time to get off, although to her credit, she did help him up afterwards.

"So what's your name then?" Lyra asked once all three of them were standing. Taking the time to lean back against a conveniently located wall, he gave the two girls a lazy grin and answered that he was "Alexander Weiss, world-class hockey player" (_in training_, Marisol thought to herself). Lyra's next question of "So were you accepted into Île des Rêves World Academy too?", however, caused his face to contort into a fierce scowl as his posture stiffened.

"Yeah," he muttered, his eyes flashing a dangerous warning. Lyra once again managed to ignore this social cue and continued, "So are you excited, then?"

"No - going here is just going to be a waste of time and a loss of talent I could have been using with actual results," Alexander replied. Marisol coughed subtly to stop Lyra from continuing to pry into the personal part of their new friend's life.

"_Ah!_ So then, er, _how_ - how about we look around and see if we can get an idea of where we are?" Lyra yelped, her voice's pitch lowering as she realized not to press the subject. Alexander slumped again, the ireful glint in his eyes dying as he smiled at them again.

"Sure, why not; lead the way, ladies," he agreed, rising to follow them.

* * *

"What is with all these locked doors?" Lyra wondered out loud, voicing the others' thoughts, as they met yet another dead end. "Maybe someone is trying to get us to follow a certain path-"

"Right-o, bastards!" a sudden, somewhat familiar voice replied; Lyra, Alexander, and Marisol all gave each other confused looks. "If a pathway is closed off by barred doors, please take another route; rest assured, they will be unlocked _in due time_. Now run along - you don't want to be punished for breaking rules, now, _do you_?" At this, the metal doors started sparking and crackling ominously.

Wide-eyed, the three rising students backed away from the blocked exit. Alexander, the most coherent, asked, "What the actual hell was that?"

Marisol remained silent again, trying to figure out the source of the voice and why it rang a bell in her head. _Speakers in the walls, maybe-?_ At last, Marisol shrugged; after all, she wasn't a SHSL Technician - she didn't really know how these things worked. Why bother figuring it out?

At last, the trio arrived at what seemed to be a waiting room. Lyra placed her hand on the cold handle cautiously, cheering as it opened with little resistance. With the other hand, she invited Alexander and Marisol in, letting the door close behind them as they stared at the room.

The checkerboard pattern was back again, this time on the ceiling as well. This created a disorienting effect, and Alexander rubbed his temples, groaning, "Please, _please_ let's get out of here."

To his dismay, the doors behind him wouldn't open. Annoyed, he looked around the room for another exit, finding one across the room. He stormed over to the door, definitely ready to escape the headache-inducing nature of the room.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

While Lyra and Marisol gaped, turning to observe the fourth occupant of the room for the first time, Alexander ignored it, continuing on his warpath. However, once his hand fell on the door handle, Alexander felt an electric shock run through his body. With a harsh intake of breath, he let go, but he remained frozen, standing at the door for a couple of seconds afterwards.

"No, no," the same cheerful voice from earlier reprimanded, "that won't do. Take some time to get to know each other! You'll get to see the main event soon enough; don't be so impatient, ya little bastard!"

Alexander growled, his eyebrows furrowed; he moved as if to kick the door, but then thought better of it and left it alone.

Meanwhile, the last person of the room stood up, walking over to Lyra and Marisol. "And what are the names of you two lovely ladies?" he asked in a pleasantly deep voice, giving them a flirtatious wink. Before Marisol could stutter out a nervous reply, Lyra introduced the both of them.

"You were also accepted to Île des Rêves too, I presume?" Marisol asked once she had worked up the courage to speak to her new companion. He gave them a smile, replying, "Why, indeed I was, Ms. Cabrera."

"So what's your talent, then?" Lyra prompted him.

He gave the two girls a bow, at last explaining, "I am - SHSL Weapons Designer, Hadrian Marzipan Maddox," before he adjusted the navy-tinted goggles that hung loosely around his neck. Marisol accepted this declaration silently, nodding in agreement; Lyra, however, sent the conversation in a completely different direction.

"What's that - on your back?" she asked, her eyes wide with interest. During his bow, Hadrian's shirt had slipped up, revealing a dark red mark on his lower back.

"Tattoo," Hadrian replied noncommittally. At Lyra's next inquiry of "can I see?", he gave her a look of amusement; waggling his eyebrows, he asked in return, "Are you really _that_ interested in seeing me take my clothes off? I didn't know we were at that level of commitment yet-"

"Ah - please don't - you really don't have to-" Marisol stammered (on Lyra's behalf of course); her cheeks flushed furiously at the idea. Hadrian, however, simply laughed at her nervous request and took off his shirt regardless, turning away to show off his tattoo (or to make Marisol feel less uncomfortable; it could have been a mix of the two). After a moment's hesitation (and Lyra's amazed gasp), Marisol peeked through her fingers, taking her hands away completely to stare, awestruck, at the remarkable design on the weapon designer's back.

Two dragons swirled around each other in a circle, almost as in a yin-yang formation; one was crimson red, the other cobalt blue. The intricate detail on each scale and the flames almost made it seem out of place, being on someone's skin instead of framed as a timeless piece of art in a collection.

"Hurt like hell at the time," Hadrian admitted. "And don't leave your mouths open - you'll catch flies."

* * *

"So - do we try to wake him, or-?"

This came from Shiki, who stood at the back of another checkerboard room. She motioned to the young man lying on the ground, fast asleep. Her companion nodded enthusiastically, clapping her hands together for emphasis.

"Yeah!" Elma cheered softly, gesturing quickly for Shiki to follow her. Checking every so often on her target, the motorcycle racer slumped, her posture changing as she went to imitate a T-rex and lunged across the room with an exaggerated gait.

"Ah - I really don't think this is going to work and all," Abel Hikari muttered, fiddling with the sleeves of his long white jacket. He was the most familiar with the sleeping boy, having dragged him over from their hallway into the waiting room of sorts.

"It has to work!" Elma objected. "If we're supposed to get to know each other, like the notice on the door says, then everyone's gotta be awake, right? And hey, Abel, what's his name anyway?"

"Il-ee-yas, I think-?" he replied, his mouth contorting as he tried to pronounce the name properly. After a little thought, he shrugged, giving up on figuring out the correct pronunciation. "Well, let's try to wake him, then!"

Abandoning the T-rex act, Elma walked over to Ilyas' limp body, nudging it with a foot. "Hello-? Anyone in there?" she asked, rapping the top of his head lightly to emphasize her point.

Ilyas made no motion to respond, if he even heard.

"...he's not dead, is he?" Shiki wondered, biting her lip. Her eyes flickered back and forth, narrowing in suspicion, and she took a step back from the other two members.

"_Upupupupu_, so exciting already? Which one of you bastards killed Mr. Pyrotechnist then? I'll place my money on Mr. Striker here, but who knows? Oh, this is _too much_!" a voice gushed through an unseen speaker, setting the room's awake occupants on edge. Abel shuddered at the random insinuation, and his brow furrowed.

"Huh? Last time I checked, he was still breathing..." he said hastily, kneeling by Ilyas' body. After holding his hand in front of the other boy's face for a couple of seconds, Abel stood up, nodding. "He _is_ breathing - I guess he's just a deep sleeper or something. So in the meantime, do you want to do that whole orientation game thing? I mean, that's what the notice on the board said." He left out the "nothing XXX-rated in here, bastards!" part.

"Brilliant idea!" Elma concurred, motioning for the others to form a circle on the ground (she made sure to include Ilyas; maybe the supposed pyrotechnist would wake up later). "So then, Abel," she continued, "what's your whole SHSL deal? That announcement said something about a striker...?"

"I'm an SHSL Soccer Player," Abel explained, "and I play striker specifically. What about you guys then?"

"I'm a SHSL Motorcycle Racer," Elma responded cheerfully; to go with her explanation, she pretended to grip the handlebars of an imaginary motorcycle. "See - this is my racing uniform; it's white and blue because I'm from San Marino, and these are the flag colors. And the symbol across my belt, with the three castle towers? That's the coat of arms! Pretty cool, huh?" she finished; although her helmet concealed her face, both Abel and Shiki could hear the grin in her voice.

"Impressive," Shiki agreed. "I'm an SHSL Video Game Designer - I live in London, although I was born in Japan." She then went on to reveal that Sakamoto Inc. was her company (or, at least, it would be soon), and she had been able to incorporate a lot of her ideas into its more successful sci-fi titles. "Have you played anything from Sakamoto Inc.?" she asked, a curious smile flitting across her pale face

"Sorry; I'm not much of a gamer," Elma confessed, tilting her head as she shrugged. "What about you, Abel?"

Throughout Shiki's little speech, Abel had been oddly quiet; even now, as he was being addressed, the soccer player remained motionless.

"Abel? Earth to Abel?" Elma asked, rising to walk around the oddly silent boy. Suddenly, his glazed stare focused, and he gave another enthusiastic smile.

"Sorry, I just got lost in thought," he explained, blinking as if to drive his previous distraction away. "So what was your first title, Shiki?"

"Ah, it's not that good," Shiki replied evasively. "But hey; enough about me! My life's not even that interesting anyway. What was your life like before you got here?"

Abel grimaced for a moment before his usual smile came back on his face. "Well, I'm from Northern Ireland, but you could say I had a pretty normal family. Just one older sibling, my brother, and a mom and a dad. Nothing usual, you know. Why did you - ask?"

The doors had silently swung open. There was no light beyond the doors; they led into darkness. The white and black tiles on the checkerboard floor pattern had shifted to spell out "COME IN BASTARDS :)".

"That's as good an invitation as any," Elma commented, ignoring the language. "We should bring in our friend over here, shouldn't we?" she wondered, motioning to the sleeping young man. Together, the three of them grabbed part of Ilyas' limp body; Shiki, being the smallest of the three, struggled under his weight as they walked into darkness.

Just as they took the first step into the new room, the lights flashed on.


End file.
